


Any Normal Evening

by Annabel_Lioncourt



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Gen, I made it presentable bc you guys deserve more than my long delayed updates, So here's some fluff, enjoy, fluff?, this is very old and was touched up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7663783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabel_Lioncourt/pseuds/Annabel_Lioncourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evenings have taken on a strangely domestic feeling, which would be normal, if she wasn't head of a secret military branch and he wasn't dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Normal Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first things I ever wrote for this fandom, but I wanted to give you guys SOMETHING to hold you over until I get over the roadblock in my main story and post more chapters.

There was no single day that Integra could point to and say that it was the day that she noticed a change in her pet or in herself that led to the sense of domestic normality she got as she slumped into the sofa at his side, and not minding his arm falling around her shoulders.

            “I could never say that I have a dull job,” she said, her voice half dead while tugging a loose bandage on her hand tighter. Alucard laughed, his fang-teeth mostly shrunken back after the end of the blood bath. He had no bandages, no stitches, having healed before returning to the manor.

            “No, you couldn’t. And I have to say,” his hold on her tightened slightly, “being your mutt is better than being in chains,” she scoffed.

            “You’re Hellsing’s weapon, not my pet.”

            “Yes, Master.” He took her glasses off, and his own, setting both in his hat and tossing it all gently to the floor. “Long night, and you haven’t slept in nearly 24 hours,”

            “I’ll be fine, just…pull the ottoman over, I think I twisted my ankle.”

            “As you command,” he rose from his seat, a shadow still holding her around the shoulders, and dragged the ottoman across the parlor to where they had been seated. “I love what you call these things. I take pleasure in putting my boots on the back of something called an ‘ottoman.’” Integra glanced across the two doorways of the room.

            “You shouldn’t say things like that, there could have been someone lurking.”

            “I ‘d be able to sense a presence; there’s no one. Besides…it wouldn’t have to be a hint to my identity, perhaps I’m just a racist.” he took his place again beside her, slowly adjusting his hold on her so her head was resting on his chest. Side by side their blood and mud stained boots ruined the ottoman.

            “Really? When the head chef complained about the French-Arabic pastry girl, Baskerville, off his hand.” _And its not as if I’m white either, yet you’re still…_ she stopped her thoughts, lest he hear them.

            “I reattached it.” he shrugged.

            “Right then…Count.” He didn’t need to look down to know that she had on that faint, delightful smile, that anyone else would just mistake for a twitch, instead of her expression of contentment.

            “Perhaps you could try to sleep, Countess?”

            “No, we’ll have to discuss the events with the table before dawn.” Her eyelids weighed heavy, and not wearing her glasses was making closing them even more tempting.

            “I could carry you to bed? You look awful,” _speaking of temptations_.

            “Not on your excuse for a life, Nosferatu.” Alucard dramatically clutched his unbeating heart with an exaggerated expression of pain.

            “You wound me gravely, master.”

            “Then it’s a damn good thing you heal so fast,” she grimaced, _if only I did_ , her ankle might have been broken, not twisted, and the array of cuts and bruises, a bullet graze on her hip all hurt like devils.

            “I….could do something to ease the pain,” he muttered,

            “No. I know what that entails, and _no_.” he smiled at her defiance. He enjoyed her fire, her strength….more than he cared to admit.

            “I wouldn’t lick your wounds like a dog, a few drops of my blood would suit; I don’t like to see you in pain, and with your… _stubbornness_ I’m afraid you’re in far more than you actually claim to be.” She shifted slightly to rid herself of his arm.

            “Alucard, _no_. Be happy with what I do grant you.” He threw his gloves the way of his hat and their glasses, and took her bare hand in his. Integra tensed.

            “Will you grant me this much then?” after a moment she wove her fingers through his. “Thank you, Count—“

            “—You know I’m not your countess,”

            “There is no one else that I could bestow the title to; and no one more important to my existence than you.” Integra let weariness get the better of her, and rested her head on the vampire’s shoulder.

            “But you had an actual countess.”

            “Two, actually. The first one was arranged…she died of consumption before I returned from battle.” He spoke of her drily.

            “What of the second one?” taking him to answer that one, he moved his eyes from the crown of blonde hair to the fire.

            “We wed out of choice. She had fair skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. She was gentle, patient with our sons, and only a little stern with the staff.”

            “You sound awfully soft for her,”

            “Oh, I was…” he was smiling “I was hers entirely, there was nothing that could separate us but war.”

            “Even then blood called to you more than love,” she pointed out

            “ _Duty_ , and a want to protect my family and family lands called to me more than mere desire.”

            “Is there even a difference to you?”

            “If there wasn’t, if I didn’t possess the loyalty which you always assume I do not have, I would have drained you dry ten years ago. Or the moment we were alone this evening.” He raised their twined hands to his lips, gripping harder when she tried to pull away. Grinning to show every sharpened fang, he pressed a kiss to the veins inside her wrist. She let go of the breath she was holding when he set their hands back down. “Ilona would have admired you, I like to think. You’re brave and strong… and occasionally kind to this poor demon.”

            “Did you kill her?”

            “No,” he replied curtly. “She was dead before I saw her again after my change.” They sat in silence for longer than they had been talking.

           _I’m sorry_ , she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, but he’d hear her anyway, _I’m sorry I said that. And I’m sorry you lost her_.

            _It was four hundred years ago, more than that really._

_Do you still love her?_

_I try to summon her eyes and her face… and I feel an ache of guilt when I do for too often her image in my mind morphs into—_

“Stop.”

            “Integra?”

            “Just stop. Don’t think it, don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it.” He smiled softly.

            “Tell me when you do want to hear it then,” she didn’t reply. “Come, let me help you to bed, I can sense the dawn, and if they haven’t called for you yet, they won’t until this afternoon.”

 

Reluctantly, she let him be her crutch to stand, and finding that she couldn’t, she didn’t protest to him carrying her. Setting his master on her bed, and relinquishing her hand, he left her asleep.

 

            Integra would do more had she the life of other twenty-somethings. Or, rather, she would like to do more. She would enjoy meeting friends, maybe lovers, going for drinks and walks, exploring the city and its parks.

St. James would be a beautiful stretch of green and gardens unrolled before the palace, peaceful and royal, and not a signifier that she was about to face the queen’s men. The sight of it vanishing in the rear view would be peaceful as well, and not a stressor of the upcoming deadlines, and paperwork, and further meetings with stuffy men.

            Her life as it was involved running a semi-secret occult organization, fighting undead legions, werewolves, evil witches, malevolent spirits, and her own personal demon that she had unintentionally freed from his chains in the dungeons.

            Her life today, was getting the lecture of a century from half of parliament—the half that would actually speak to her—and _then_ the threat from the queen’s men once again that if she could not handle the Hellsing Organization, then it would be handled for her.

            “Walter, I’m running a bath and going to bed. If any phones ring, if any alarms are set off, let them go. I’m done for the day.”

            “And what of your orders for Alucard and the police girl?”

            “Seres is free for the night, and I don’t want to see Alucard’s face tonight.”

            “Yes, sir. Good evening.” Walter nodded his head and left, shutting the door of Integra’s quarters behind him.

 

 

She grudgingly her bath only when the water became too cold to relax in. Pulling on a robe, she left the room for the main area of her chambers, and collapsed on the couch before the fire.

            “Didn’t want to see my face?” a voice from the shadows asked. Integra rubbed her temples.

            “Alucard…today was a _bloody_  nightmare. I want to relax. I want my warm bed. And I want it _alone_.”

            “Mmmm understandable…humans are so sensitive to temperature.”

            “And you’re corpse-cold.”

            “Is that the only reason you didn’t want me here tonight?”

            “I wanted sleep, I didn’t want to confront you, I didn’t want to wrangle with my emotions and my duty tonight.” she was too tired to even get up for a cigar.

            “I could go out for a bite, it would warm me up.” Supported by shadowy tendrils, her cigar box hovered before her, she selected one, and it lit itself.

            “Thank you. And I will not have you out getting fresh blood.”

            “Then… you could indulge your servant.”

            “No.”

            “And here I thought we were beyond single syllable answers.” She blew out a cloud of smoke, which vanished as if sucked into the shadows. “You don’t have to see my face if you don’t wish too,”

            “Warm up by the fire at least, if you’re going to stay.”

            “As you wish,” she had to admit that the tall vampire looked ridiculous after materializing before the fire, cross-legged on the carpet in front of her. _Good pet_

            “I need a vacation…”

            “We could go to my home country…beautiful mountains, rivers, castles…”

            “Really, I am not in the mood for—“

            “For reality? Maybe some place less haunted then.” She ignored him for a moment, before memories of her last vacation to the continent swam back through the haze of exhaustion and stress.

            “Norway is quiet. We went sailing there when I was a little girl. My mother hated it, not colorful enough; but my father…his health didn’t allow him visit my mother’s family in India, and language barriers always kept me from seeing them.”

            “I’m sure we could hire a translator,”

            “And explain you?”

            “Introduce me as Mr. Integra Hellsing if you don’t want to call yourself Countess.”

            “You’re a lovesick fool,” he gave her a contemplative smile

            “I do love you,” his words were uncharacteristically serious.

            “I know.” She put out her cigar in the ashtray and rose from her seat. “You can come to bed if you’re warm,” his eyes widened in shock, “And Count? If you stay, you’re staying until dawn at least.”


End file.
